


Momentary Grace

by NeoVenus22



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M, Porn Battle, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inara looks like she's blushing, but Simon convinces himself it's a trick of the harsh infirmary lighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentary Grace

Inara looks like she's blushing, but Simon convinces himself it's a trick of the harsh infirmary lighting. He's sure the captain would insist there were plenty of things about which Inara should be ashamed, but Simon knows she's proud of what she does. The only thing that really seems to cause her embarrassment is the Captain himself.

"It's just so silly to have never been inoculated," she admits with a sheepish smile. He wonders for a moment if she's using trained charm on him or not.

"The virus is exclusive only to these three moons," he says. "It can't survive anywhere else. And if you'll pardon my saying, these aren't the sorts of locations where one might find Guild-approved clients. It's certainly not your fault you never got the shot."

"No, I suppose not." Inara holds out her arm, pale, graceful, and ready for a needle.

Simon does the procedure easily, professionally, but his hand lingers on her soft skin for longer than is necessary. He doesn't catch it at first, but she does, and now it's his turn to blush. "Is everything all right, Doctor?"

"Uh, no. I mean yes. Yes. Things are fine."

The corner of her lip curls up. He can't tell if she's laughing at him or not, but she looks so beautiful he doesn't quite care. "Are we done here, then? You don't need..." he makes a useless gesture, "anything else?"

"The Guild likes to approve all examinations, so your services are appreciated, but unnecessary."

"Yes, of course." Simon pulls off his gloves and casts them aside. "Then you're free to go, I guess." He turns away, hoping to save face, but feels a hand on his arm.

"Simon. Thank you." And then there's a kiss. On his mouth.

"Uh," he manages, and stammers, "this isn't..." What he means to say is, 'this isn't an exchange of goods and services, I'm not expecting anything.'

"No," she says, "it isn't." And then she kisses him again.

"Then..."

"Then perhaps you would be wise not to ask so many questions."

So he loops his arms around her waist (she's delicate, which shouldn't surprise him, and yet does) and he doesn't ask.

Inara tastes... rich. Like dark chocolate and fresh fruit and other indulgences that remind him of home, even though he's been on _Serenity_ so long that any food that doesn't come in a brick seems like luxury. His arms are tight around her waist, to the point where he wonders if he's scared she'll run if he lets go. There's also the part of him that's scared this is all an elaborate hallucination. His hands loosen but move to Inara's hips, which fit nicely against him when he pulls her closer. It's her willingness to comply that makes him break his mouth from hers. "All right, I have to ask."

Inara smiles at him indulgently. "I should've known I couldn't hope to still the mind of a brilliant doctor."

The brilliant part makes him blush, even if they both know it's true. "Why me?"

Although he suspects she knew the answer long time ago, her entire reasoning for coming here in the first place, Inara does him the courtesy of thinking it over before she says it aloud. "We're very similar in some respects. I feel connected to you in a way I can't exactly share with the others. I hope you're not offended by this."

"I think the others might be, but I'm not," he says. He's actually a little bit pleased that someone recognizes his fundamental differences from the rest of the crew, and doesn't consider it something to be mocked or looked at with disdain. "But the captain..."

"No one dictates my actions, Simon. Not the Guild, and certainly not Mal. Now, where were we?"

There's a definite finality to her tone indicating the question and answer period is over. Not that Simon was foolish enough to pursue it any farther than that, and he regrets bringing up the captain at all, given the animosity lurking there that existed long before he was a presence on this ship.

"Perhaps we should go somewhere else?" he suggests, feeling a little woozy at the thought, at his presumption, although Inara kissing him seemingly at random does lend a certain amount of credence to the idea.

"I'm sure the infirmary is sterile enough," she says, amusement tinging her voice and her eyes.

"The infirmary isn't... secure enough," he offers.

"To my great regret, we run just as much risk of getting walked in on in my shuttle as we do anywhere else on this ship."

At least they're on the same page, Simon thinks, then abruptly decides to stop thinking, and leads her over to a cot. "I'm sure this is much less than what you're used to," he apologizes.

"I'm sure the company will more than make up for the lack of luxury," she says, and Simon nearly pinches himself, because Inara is here, willing, wanting, laughing and joking with him even as he fumbles his way through a seduction.

"Right, the company," he says. Inara sits on the edge of the cot and undoes his vest with infuriating slowness. "This is... I mean, I've never..."

"Never?" she asks, pausing to gaze at him with raised brows.

"No!" he realizes sharply. "I mean, no, not ever with a Companion."

"Simon." She kisses his cheek. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm not here as a Companion."

Simon knows that if he keeps bringing it up, he's going to regret it, so he kisses her, brings her soft tongue into his mouth, and doesn't protest when she finally manages to get him partially undressed. She's wearing a long and flowing skirt, and he pushes it up over her knees, no farther than that yet, just enough so he can part her legs easily and stand between them. Inara's hands are soft, warm, and sure on his chest and flanks. Her mouth is completely perfect on his. For awhile there's just touching, Simon taking his time and examining every curve through layers of pretty clothes, trying to keep his hands moving even when Inara's touch is so good it makes him want to freeze so he can concentrate on how good she makes him feel. But he focuses, dipping his fingers under the edges of her dress, cataloging every change in her breath.

Simon is finding it harder and harder to control himself. Unsurprisingly, Inara is even more of a master of anatomy than he is, or at least it feels that way to his taut, needy body. He does his best to make sure her dress doesn't rip; those sorts of things might not matter to the others on the ship, but Simon recognizes the dresses are as much a part of Inara's job as surgical equipment is to Simon, or Vera is to Jayne.

Inara's mouth is wet on his neck, her breasts firm and soft and picture-perfect in his hands. She rises so they can finish undressing themselves, and it's frantic and unglamorous, then she's back on the cot, spread out before him, having somehow coerced the otherwise unflattering light to caress her curves. Her legs wrap around his waist and he sinks into her, inch by cautious inch. It's been so long, and he thinks she knows that, waiting patiently for him to get his head together. Simon doesn't want to disappoint.

Her murmurs are soft, whispers and hums, and her hands stroke at his hair. When he does something right, her back arches and her head falls back, and he kisses her exposed neck. She feels incredible and Simon is done sooner than he'd like. He picks up where he left off with kisses and licks and touches, because he's supposed to be an expert in anatomy, too, because he wants to share and not take, because she looks so beautiful coming apart like that. He wonders if they'll do this again. He wonder why they haven't done it sooner.

When they're dressed again, he's not putting his foot in his mouth anymore, but instead wondering what to say. It's Inara who saves him, again, fluffing out her hair with a few quick finger strokes, and asks, "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please, that would be perfect."

And later, in the heady darkness of Inara's shuttle, surrounded by hot tea, the faint waft of incense, and the richness of Inara's laughter, it is.


End file.
